The Midnight Grove
by pyororo67
Summary: Fox, a scribe-talent fairy, has caught a legendary fever that had killed the lover of an adventurer fairy nearly a hundred years ago. Frost, a winter-talent fairy—as well as Fox's best friend—feels the need to find the cure for her. Thus, with the help of an adventurer's diary and Fox's vast knowledge, Frost must fight his fear of everything and save the one he truly care about.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

_-Fox-_

_Purple. Blue. Yellow. Pink. Orange._

Those were the list of colors that rolled in my head as I sat there, right on top of a glow-in-the-dark mushroom, watching as the first light of sunrise rose; watching as the light engulfed the dark of the night and extinguish the stars from the skies.

It didn't really matter what color the light was made of, actually. I couldn't care less. What matters was that it's beautiful here, far from every fairy there is in Never Land; feeling as if I was watching a lone show of the sky made just for myself, and that in an hour, I would be expected to start with my work, which mostly consist of piling up books and documents, considering that I _am_ a scribe-talent fairy.

"Har Har, Berlioz." I called as I got up, balancing myself so I wouldn't fall off of the slippery-surfaced mushroom. Dark spots clouded my vision for a second, along with a wave of dizziness that crashed against my brain. I shook my head and the pain shrugged away.

A small brown ferret that lay asleep under the mushroom opened his eyes in a quick snap at the sound of my voice. I smiled at the sight of him and jumped onto his back gently. "Let's fly back. It's almost five." I patted his head, feeling the soft fur beneath my hand as he gave me a barely audible squeak—a sign of agreement, I think—before speeding through the pebbles and mushrooms around the seemingly-never-ending field, the sun rising ever so slowly behind me, busily erasing any noticeable traces of the presence of the night.

* * *

It was about 20 minutes later when I arrived at my house, deep inside a stranded, yet small nest of an owl. (I know that every fairy are supposed to live in the Home Tree, but I have requested privacy from Queen Clarion, since I was very uncomfortable with the crowd, and she allowed me to live where I wanted.) My house was almost made out of leaves and bark: dull and simple. But since Frost started to come in and out _every single day _almost three years ago, it looked almost decorated now.

"You were in the mushroom field all night..." A voice hesitantly called from inside the house as my feet landed on the crispy matt made of autumn leaves in front of the door that Frost made for me a year ago. "Am I wrong?"

"No." I admitted, making my way through the spider silk curtain, sparkly with the beads of frozen dewdrops that decorated it. Dizziness crashed again; and for a moment, everything was spinning. I shut my eyes and opened them again. "Don't worry, Frost. I brought Berlioz with me. I was safe." I reassured as I saw his worried face as he stood in front of the small hearse, cooking my favorite breakfast in the whole world: hazelnut soup.

Frost, my best friend, was a very shy sparrow-man. He can even be considered as the shiest man in Pixie Hollow. It took me about 4 months of winter-book deliveries to get him to talk to me comfortably. If you have noticed, he talked rather strangely, too. That's because he used to stutter at everyone; now, he stutters at everyone but me.

He had a snow-white hair that identified him as a frost-talent fairy (and when he ran his hand through it, you should see the way dusts of snow would shrug out of it); he's also quiet tall if compared to the average height of a sparrow-man. Though the way he ducks his head when he walks makes him a bit shorter than he actually were.

"Maybe you should take a day off, considering that you haven't slept at all. You look a bit…red." He took a spoon and poured the hazelnut soup into a bowl.

"Of course not." I gave him a lazy laugh as I dropped onto the bed; dusts of frost sprinkled beneath me, melting my temperature away. Frost must've sensed the fever that I assumed were coming. "In fact, I think I should spend more time there. Glowing mushrooms made my eyesight better, I tell you."

"And fry you under its glow too, it seems." He came over and put a cold hand onto my forehead. "You're practically roasting." His eyebrows creased. "Should I take you to the nursery?"

"No." I quickly responded. "You shall never! You know how I despise the nursery." I flail my arms around. "The antiseptics, the scuffling of fairies. Oh, and the wails and cries!" my face twisted in disgust. "It makes even the most minor sickness unbearably painful."

"Oh." He replied shortly, ducking his head in...fear(?) "I guess…then I should just…tell Ramon that you're taking a day off…?"

"No, of course not. I should go to work, no exception." I start to get up. "However…" I closed my eyes for a few seconds to ease the pain that was throbbing at my head again. "...you can perhaps come with me."

His face lit up instantly at the opportunity; and I swore if he didn't tighten his jaw and held back, snow would've fallen in the room and the wish of Christmas in August would finally come true.

"Okay. What do I need?" He said a bit too loudly as he held my arm and guided me up. "Should I…should I bring some ink? Pens and pencils?"

"Everything's there, no need to worry." I gave him a cheerful smile. It was comforting to have his arm around my shoulder, guarding me in case I'd fall. It gave me pinches of energy to know that there's someone who cares for you at times like this. "Let's just fly there. Slowly."

And we did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_-Frost-_

_THUMP._

The noise that woke me from my nap was a painful crash against the wooden floor. I swiveled my head around with a sprinkle of panic to find where the sound had came from. Or was it an earthquake?

"Ouch…" Someone murmured. The voice was Fox's.

Somehow, the hint of pain and weariness in her voice triggered my panicky protective instinct to switch on. I stood up—too quickly, I think, since I almost knocked the wooden chair behind me in the process.

"Are you okay?" I called, looking around to figure out where she was. "Fox? Where are you?"

My wandering eyes caught a hand that shot up from behind a shelf somewhere on the second floor. "I'm right here."

I smiled and sighed in relief. She sounded okay. "I'll be there in a second." I hopped and flew, avoiding a pile of new-looking books on my right before landing right in front of the bookshelf where her hand poked out previously and peeked behind it.

Fox was sprawled on the floor, books scattered around. My heart thumped against my rib at the sight. _I thought she was okay_.

"What happened?" I hurried forward and helped her to sit upright, leaning her back against the bookshelf.

"I fell. My wings are not cooperating with me." She tried to give a smile, but it was too forced to be real. "Nothing to be worried of."

I sighed and sat next to her, and she dropped her head onto my shoulder. The heat on her red cheeks seeped into my clothes and into the skin beneath it. The world stopped breathing, and I felt blood rushing to my cheeks.

For a moment, I think I stopped breathing too.

"Y-your temperature's rising." I quickly said, breaking the silence. "We should…we should really go to the nursery." I fumbled around to stand up, wanting to be anywhere but near her. It felt as if her presence alone would give me the same fever too.

"No." She grabbed my arm and pulled, dragging me back down. I hate to admit it, but sometimes she's stronger than I was. Even when she's sick. "I was searching for a book earlier…" her voice was slower now. It seemed like it took a great deal of her strength to be able to pull down. "I think I found the cure."

I looked at her, my brows knitted together in extreme worry. It's strange how quick the fever could get into her. One second she sounded fine. Now, it's as if she's fighting towards consciousness. Her face was redder compared to this morning's pinkish hue; beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, and her breath was labored—like she's been flying around Never Land for the last 10 minutes. All of this just seemed too unordinary to be a typical fever. "Tell me."

"That one." Her voice was even more slurred, and she pressed her eyes together and widened them again to prevent sleep from taking her. I've read somewhere that people falls into a deep sleep only when their fever's very high. "Blue cover. Gold writings."

I searched around for the mentioned book, but her hold on my arm and the weight of her head on my shoulder made moving seemed like a very hard thing to do. So when I spotted the book, (which was lying right between 'The History of Mermaids' and 'Berries and Jams') I dragged it toward me with my foot instead. Good thing I got a pair of long legs.

Picking the book up with my free hand, I scanned the book in its cover's entirety. It was just as Fox described. It was blue—the kind of deep blue you'd see in the water of a deep ocean. Small seashells were knitted to embroider the edges of the book, while on the center, with big, gold letters, was the title: 'THE HOURS OF MIDNIGHT'.

A tingle nestled in my stomach. The book felt familiar. I opened it and the yellowy, moth bitten pages rustled noisily as I turned the first page over.

_To all the lands and seas I have come across,_

_and to my dearest Crystal._

—_Corney Baille_

Corney Baille. Something clicked in the back of my mind. I knew his name. He was one of the famous ancient fairies that Fox so admired. I know I shouldn't sleep when Fox's trying to tell me stories that she loved, but I think I fell asleep in the middle of this one.

I was about to turn the next page when Fox murmured something in her sleep and tightened her grip on my arm. The movement reminded me of her presence and her sickness. A big part of my panic returned. I shut the book gently. It's time to go home.

Putting the book aside, I carefully peeled her hand off of my arm and pushed her head away to stand up. I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulder, bent down, and slipped my arms under her back and legs.

_One. Two. Three._

_Hup_. I lifted her up. She was lighter than I would've thought. Maybe the panic and the hammering heart inside my chest made everything besides Fox and her sickness seemed easier. Lighter.

Putting the book on top of her stomach (while making a mental note to read it as soon as I got home), I gently flew up and went towards her home. _'Slowly'_, just as she said earlier.


End file.
